


Questions

by sowerberry_25 (emilily_25)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (only mentioned tho) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Berserker Thor (Marvel), Character Study, Fix-It, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), not thorki, sorta? idk, stucky that can be read as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilily_25/pseuds/sowerberry_25
Summary: They both knew there was too much to discuss. Thor just hadn’t expected their confrontation to go like this.





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> found this in my drafts from AGES ago (like, from days after i watched infinity war) and figured might as well finish it up and post it now  
i had a lot of complicated feelings about endgame, but i feel like it was the perfect time for me to just kinda slip out of the marvel fandom. i might still watch post-endgame movies occasionally, but im rly not into it anymore esp from a fandom perspective
> 
> so here's a lil homage to my time in the mcu fandom, and more specifically, to thor and loki's relationship that got absolute crumbs in endgame bc the russo brothers thought korg and thor playing fornite and getting drunk was more important than a well-developed and painfully convoluted brotherly relationship that spanned numerous movies and comics within the franchise  
oof

Stark, for all he had changed over the years, still knew the enjoyment of a good celebration, and Thor was grateful for that.

Sure, there were conditions. For one, there were less drinks than Thor would have hoped, but it was hard to justify a night of complete inebriation when there were so many diplomatic conferences to attend, so much reconstruction to attend to, so many wounds both physical and emotional that had yet to heal.

Not to mention the night had fewer guests than their previous festivities—even the _thought_ of more reporters or journalists had Bruce’s anxiety spiking, Tony’s fist clenching, and Steve crowding around Barnes with an angry glint in his eye. It was a private event, or well, as private as it could be for them.

Even some of their friends and comrades in arms were missing.

Scott and his partner Hope had excused themselves quickly.

“_I’m no Avenger,_” he had joked. “_Besides, I gotta get back to Cassie. I’ve been away from my little girl for too long._”

He spoke lightly and casually, but Thor could hear the slight hitch in his breath when he said his daughter’s name. The war against Thanos had taken from him as well, after all.

The Scarl—_no_, Wanda and Vision, he should say, had immediately retired to their rooms. No one could blame them, simply watching as the pair lost themselves in each other as though it would be for the last time.

The lady Carol Danvers cared not for their celebrations either, and with a stern nod but warm gaze, she was gone. Thor had heard whispers of her slipping off to the bars with Fury, but he didn’t think much of it. They all had their own ways of celebrating, after all.

Young Peter was notably absent as well, and excuses of “he has school” and “he’s just a kid” spilled from Tony’s lips before anyone even asked. They all knew there was more to the story than that, knew the battle of trauma a child his age would face now, but they spoke none of it. Instead, Thor simply clapped Tony on the back with a booming laugh and congratulated him on being a successful father to the spider boy, all while ignoring Tony’s indignant denials saying otherwise.

Many of their Wakandan friends had chosen to evade the celebrations, sending an exasperated T’Challa to represent them in their place. The man was hardly one for grand gestures, but he said he could not decline their festivities when it was to honor all they had lost and fought for.

“_Besides, if I do not come, Shuri will attempt to come in my stead, and she is far too young for a party such as this_” he said with a shrug.

Though he sounded so casual, the words were none other than those of a protective older brother, and Thor had guffawed joyfully at the thought. He wondered how many centuries it had been since he could act the same way. Back when he would hover over his baby brother, swap his mead with water, or threaten any of his bed partners. Back before Loki would burn him with a spell just for _thinking_ of such a thing.

_Loki_.

Thor shook the thought out of his head instantly.

Most intriguing yet unsurprising to Thor now, was the lack of any of their SHIELD companions.

The four years they had spent together, after the snap, hadn’t all been incessant plotting to kill Thanos and save their friends. Some of it was quieter, with hopelessness, as they recounted the missing bits of their lives the others hadn’t seen.

The fall of SHIELD took almost all of those years for Thor to understand.

Steve had fallen back against a beaten down car as he recalled his desperation to bring Bucky back, only to lose him again and again. His body trembled from a high-strung mix of anger and sorrow as he told Thor of Hydra, of the Insight Helicarriers, of the Winter Soldier. He went still as he talked about how he and Natasha were hunted by S.T.R.I.K.E., forced to bring down the whole system on their own. Thinking Fury was dead—until he wasn’t. Thinking Bucky was dead—until he wasn’t. Thinking they were all dead—until they weren’t.

Thor comforted him gently, knowing very well that feeling.

_Loki_.

That hadn’t been all. The others, slowly but surely, spoke as well, as though Steve broke down the floodgates with those battle-hardened fists of his.

Stark opened up about the trauma that had stuck with him since their very first battle, since New York, since the nuke. The insomnia, the panic attacks, the nightmares—he admitted to them all. Remembering the sight of Pepper falling into the flames, only surviving because of the Extremis powers she didn’t want. The guilt and pain he had at losing Peter was heavier than any weight you could put on his shoulders.

“_’Shoulda sent him home before the fight even started. I sent him off the protect Strange. Told him ‘save the wizard.’ Like the kid could’ve done so much against a couple of over-powered aliens._” Tony’s voice was low, but anyone could feel the pain in them from miles away.

Thor held his shoulders in a firm hug, biting his tongue from saying anything about how, with Thanos’s random snap, the boy would’ve likely died as dust anyway. At least here, he had fought valiantly in battle.

The Accords still hovered over Tony and Steve’s heads as well, as did the murder of Tony’s parents by the Winter Soldier. For the first two years after the snap, the pair barely spoke. Even after being filled in on everything, though, Thor couldn’t for the life of him pick a side.

But he had seen them speaking in hushed tones over the four years, a knot of anger and betrayal in them slowly beginning to unravel. There would be more disagreements to come, they knew, when the world was saved, but there were also promises that they would fight together, not each other. That was good enough, for now.

Meanwhile, Bruce had kept his head low as he stared down at his own palms, asking himself more than the others why it was he felt he and the Hulk were slowly drifting from each other, why had had no control, why he was more afraid in his body than he had ever been. Thor had held his shoulder in comfort the whole time, and the others listened, truly _listened_. Even when there was little they could do to help—if Banner didn’t know what was going on with the Hulk, none of them would—they still listened to the broken man healing.

Clint was quieter than most of them in these conversations. He rarely succumbed to the thought of mourning. But on the occasional night, when things seemed extraordinarily bleak and hopeless, he allowed himself to talk about the one thing that kept him going—his family. He would crack what seemed like harmless jokes—about how his baby Nathaniel cried louder than his tractor, or how his wife was gonna kill him for not taking out life insurance money—and would refuse to acknowledge the sorrow that laced his own voice.

Thor’s laughs may have sounded a tad too forced, but when his companions joined him with quiet chuckles, he knew it was alright.

It came to no one’s surprise that Natasha was silent during their little sharing nights. They simply continued their talks, and if her eyes shone a little at mention of Fury or the others, they didn’t mention it.

Eventually, Thor himself had to share, and share he did. At first, he didn’t know where to start. Where could he, when his brother, his parents, his best friend, his people were all dead, his home destroyed by an evil sister he never knew he had? But eventually, he started finding the sentences to put together and explain some of the madness he’d gone through. Really, compared to the rest of his life, it really did feel like lost everything in the blink of an eye. From the grand halls of his home, to the very image he had of his father, no longer a grand king but a conqueror ashamed of his own actions. There truly was nothing left for him to lose, and beyond the pulsing anger that was driving him to kill Thanos there was an emptiness he wasn’t sure how to fill.

The fury and heartbreak he had back then from losing the people he had risked it all to save, left him wondering if he was worth anything alive anyway. If it would have been better for him to simply fall in battle—whether he rose to Valhalla or not.

The others were quick to squash these thoughts in him, though.

Natasha and Steve were quick to remind him that not all hope was lost, that they could reverse the damage when Thanos was killed. It would do little to bring back his home and reverse anything Hela had done, but Thor appreciated the hopeful gesture.

Clint, Rocket, and Tony didn’t use gentle words, but quick jibes and jokes to remind him of how powerful they found him—“_What were you the god of again? Whimpering and dying?_”— and though it should’ve felt insulting, it was more of a comfort than anything else. Their jokes and mockeries reminded him that even without Sif and the Warriors Three, or the Valkyrie Brunhilde, he had friends that would still snark back at him and wouldn’t let him remain pathetic for long.

Bruce, for one, wouldn’t even entertain the thought of him dying, firmly but kindly reminding him of all the good he’s done, all the good he will do. Thor thought of how, for so much of the pain he’s gone through recently, Banner was there with him. Banner had fought with him to save his people, had sacrificed the chance of ever returning to his normal form by fighting as the Hulk on Asgard and on the ship against Thanos. If he died now, what was that to say about all that Bruce had done for him so far?

Really, what was that to say about what everyone had done for him so far. After all, Rocket and Groot had risked their necks (and arm, in Groot’s case) to help him craft Stormbreaker. Heimdall had died to send Banner back to Earth to warn everyone. All the warriors on board who could fought Thanos as much as they could, losing their lives when they had only just survived from Hela.

Loki had died to let Thor live.

_Loki_.

For at the end of the day, that was who it came back to, wasn’t it? For everything that happened in his life, for the greatest tears he shed or for the greatest battle cries he’s bellowed or for the greatest smiles he’s cracked, Loki was almost always the cause.

There, feigning his death for what seemed like the millionth time.

There, in combat either against him or by his side.

There, sitting at this wretchedly wonderful celebration party after all was done, with all their pain and suffering supposedly behind them.

There, Loki always was, with Thor’s eyes and heart always to follow.

Thor stared over the rim of his drink at Loki, who was smiling as he spoke with Nebula and Gamora.

Bringing Loki back had been the hardest, and not just for Thor’s emotions.

They were just barely able to bring back Heimdall and the rest by using the Time Stone, which was already fragile and weakened from overuse. Their souls had not yet departed for Valhalla, so the manipulation of time and space, though risky, was worth it. But Thor’s heart had both lightened and dropped when he looked closer.

Among Brunhilde, Korg, and the half of the Asgardians that had been spared by Thanos and managed to escape the ship being obliterated, stood Heimdall and the rest of their people. They had managed to save so many, even when Thor believed there were only so few left. So many had been lost to Hela on Asgard, but those who they had saved on the Ark were living and with them now. All except one.

_Loki._

He was not dead—of that they were certain. Loki had been with them in death, but just as his soul returned to the living world, he vanished. Heimdall could feel the pulsing of his seiðr, but there was magic being used that kept Heimdall’s all-seeing eyes away from him.

It had taken them but a few days to realize a truth so painful to Thor he could not explain why.

Loki was hiding.

The magic shielding him from sight was none but his own, and for whatever reason, he was hiding. Heimdall knew he was on this realm, in Midgard, but no one could tell where. Knowing Loki was so close only hurt more: he wasn’t off lightyears and lightyears away at the other end of the galaxy. He was here, so close, and yet Thor couldn’t see him.

He felt livid as he felt desperate.

Why was he hiding? What was he so cautious about? Hadn’t they made amends, made peace well before Thanos happened? Why would that change now? And why did he stay on Midgard, when he could probably so easily find other places to hide? Was it purely to taunt Thor, or was there a kinder reason?

Or, was he… dare Thor say it, not strong enough to make his way off this planet?

Thor’s first response, upon finding that Heimdall couldn’t locate Loki, was to turn to his friends. In hindsight, he should have realized that it wasn’t the best idea, seeing as Loki started the whole New York attack, but he hadn’t expected that much pushback. He still had a scar from when his arm took a direct shot from Tony’s blasters.

As it turns out, though, he didn’t need to search far and wide for his brother.

His prosthetic eye—he’d gotten a new, better one from Shuri—went missing at night, then showed up again five minutes before a news conference. A distinctive chill came into the room when someone started mouthing off about Jane Foster. There were familiar wisps of magic that seemed to follow him even when Stormbreaker was across the room.

The hints were subtle, and Thor wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t want to raises his hopes, only for them to be squashed to bits. No, not after everything he’d been through.

But then, there was the fight.

It was a minor affair compared to all they had been through, but still enough to warrant their aid.

“_In the aftermath of a catastrophe, villains always try to find a leg up,_” Steve had said.

It had been just days after they had defeated Thanos, and so many were still recovering. Local law enforcement could only spare a few of their own, so Thor had ventured out with the Avengers to spare government resources.

Stark had cringed when he saw who they were up against: arms dealers not unlike the ones the spider child had faced, trying to take advantage of Thanos’s scrap metals to make new weapons. The threat was neutralized quickly enough, but the men certainly were chatterboxes.

“_Still out here causing shit, aren’t ya, thunder dick!_”

“_Fuckin’ around with an axe now, huh, ya oversized lumberjack!_”

“_Forget, his head’s prolly so far up his ass he can’t hear us!_”

At first, Thor had tuned it out. After everything, something as banal as that was hardly enough to get a rise out of him. It was funny—just a few years ago, the simplest of insults would have brought him into a thunderous rage, his pride as First Prince of Asgard so large it could fill an entire planet. Now, he simply ignored the chatter as he restrained the lot of them.

But their blathering grew sharper, more targeted, hitting more close to home.

“_Forget it, these alien assholes think they’re so high and mighty, strolling in and butting into our business when their own places are in shambles._”

Thor had frozen at that, only for a second, but it was enough for the man to latch onto.

“_Oh, you thought we didn’t know? Everyone does, we all know how you and your freakshow got Asgard all blown up or whatever._”

Thor willed himself to calm down, but the words keep coming.

“_Then you show up back here again, and a grape-ass looking dude is dusting people left and right?_”

There’s a buzzing of thunder beneath his skin, and the others notice it quickly. Steve is stepping forward, his hands up, calm and placating, but not enough.

“_You brought this shit here in the first place! That brother of yours blows up New York and we’re supposed to trust you—_”

No one was sure if the man stop talking because the blade lodged in his throat cut through his vocal chords first or because he simply died first.

Thor was running up instantly. He kneeled down to examine the man, but he was already dead, so he turned his attention to the wound. A perfectly clean stab from the back of his neck, piercing through cervical bones on his spine, his vocal folds, esophagus, and his trachea. The perfect instant kill, but that wasn’t what Thor was looking at. No, he was staring at the weapon used.

A perfectly crafted dagger, wide and thin yet powerful enough to cut through the flesh as though it’s nothing, and even in the great desert plains of New Mexico, it was made of _ice_.

Thor doesn’t notice the thunder building up around him, nor does he care.

“_**LOKI**!_”

He wasn’t sure what had shocked his friends—the name he yelled, or the lightning bolt that accompanied it cracking down to the ground. Even the arms dealers seemed frightened, quivering from where they were restrained. Thor turns around frantically, the rush of emotions clouding all his thoughts save for one: find Loki.

“_You’re here, I know you are!_”

He can hear the others talking to him. Stark’s calling him Point Break and gently trying to soothe him, still thinking Thor was just riled up by the arms dealer’s words. Bruce was in shock, snapping his head around as though he’d be able to see Loki himself. The others just look confused, but ready to hold Thor back if needed.

“_Mark my words you’ll hide no longer, brother!_”

With a great heave he lifted Stormbreaker into the air, only to bring it down hard upon the Earth. A gust of air and electricity blasted out around him from all sides, pushing back everyone around him like the mightiest storm. He had but a second to look, but that second was enough to see the tiny wisp of light glimmering green in the chaotic air.

He had him.

He was on Loki in seconds, grasping at his arm so quickly that his younger brother couldn’t even think of another spell to hide him in time. From there, the rest of the illusion fell, and there was Loki, indignant and exhausted, but alive.

Alive.

When Thor breathed out, he wasn’t sure if his breath was shaking from relief, anger, or something else entirely.

“_Woah, woah, woah, alright listen Thor. You gotta calm down and—_”

“_Oh god he **is** alive, Thor, are you—_”

“_Everyone stand down, we promised we’d trust—_”

It felt like a hundred voices were running off at once, but Thor didn’t care. No, he simply stared into Loki’s eyes, wide and swirling with so many emotions he couldn’t begin to pick each one of them out. But as he stared, something else became more apparent.

Something was wrong with Loki, and he had a pretty good idea of what.

“_Stop this now, Loki._”

“_Whatever do you mean, brother?_”

Hearing Loki’s voice, even if it was to sneer and snarl at him, was a blessing on Thor’s ears.

“_The games, the lies, the secrets._”

“_Perhaps the sight of me has driven you mad._”

Perhaps it had, but even in madness he could see the signs—the light trails of seiðr too visible to be safe, the slight heaving of Loki’s chest, the unnaturally cold feeling of the arm in Thor’s grip.

“_Drop your glamor, Loki_. _Put down your allusion._”

A pause, and it had seemed that even his friends around him had stopped at his words. A pain unlike any other flickered in Loki’s eyes, but a cruel smile crawled up his lips.

“_You really are the worst brother._”

Thor didn’t have time to think of how words were a complete parroting of what he thought were his last words to his brother. No, he couldn’t think of that, because just a second later, frosty blue was overtaking Loki’s skin, barely visible under a terrifying assortment of bruises, cuts, and other gaping open wounds.

A second more, and Loki had fallen unconscious into Thor’s arms with a deafening thud.

After that, there had been but a minor chaos.

No one in the team seemed to know what to do, wide-eyed in both fear and concern as they stared at Loki in Thor’s arms. It was as though they were staring at a stranger—and to them, Loki might as well be. From the Jotun form that even Thor had never seen before, to the injuries he bore, everything about Loki seemed to repel away the Midgardians.

_No matter_, Thor had thought, his mind instantly racing for answers.

Stark, unsurprisingly, had spoken first.

“_So… he’s, uh, he’s alive! That’s good, right?_”

Silence had greeted him.

“_Alright, alright, uh, let’s get banged-up brother over here somewhere to fix… all that. Let’s go—oh shoot, okay, yeah, not New York. Too far, plus too many, uh… memories. FRIDAY, run a scan for any nearby private hospitals we can buy out. Like, now. And get doctors on the line. Best in every field you got, no telling how much there is to patch up here—_”

“_There is nothing you can do,_” Thor had heard himself interrupting. His voice felt so distant, so far from where he sat staring down at his barely-breathing brother.

“_But—_”

“_There is no medicine Midgard can offer, not for this. He must see our healers, as soon as possible._”

It was true. After so many centuries, Thor had come to learn the intricacies of treating his brother when injured. It was clear that there were wounds so old, they were verging on the edge of being entirely untreatable. Thor felt his throat clench as he saw the telltale bruises around his neck, from when Thanos… from when they were on the ship. Still, those were all physical, wounds that Earth’s hospitals would be able to heal without problem.

But physical wounds had never been a cause of concern for Loki. It were the harsher, magically inflicted wounds that were the problem. Normal injuries, from a cut cheek to a broken rib, could be easy fixed with a flash of Loki’s seiðr if he so wished it. Yet not only was Loki’s magic critically deprived, but even with that, he only knew the most basic of healing spells. Whoever had harmed Loki this way had clearly wanted both the pain and reminders of it to last, using advanced and intricate torture spells for that reason alone.

The thought brought sickness to Thor’s stomach, but he grit his teeth and moved.

Tony was, surprisingly, lenient. The look in his eye made it clear that they had much to discuss, but at that time, he wouldn’t push. Within minutes a jet had arrived, and the team surprised Thor even more by not joining him. They simply let him go with Loki, only expecting answers later on.

They knew where he was going after all.

When his people had returned from the jaws of death, the question of refuge became even more urgent. Luckily, they were quickly able to seek asylum in a small area off the Norwegian coast, where Stark’s money flooded in to provide resources and create a proper town for them. It was much different than what they were used to on Asgard—cold replacing their eternal flame, cement replacing their glimmering gold—but his people were resilient and strong. They took their stay in stride, and built upwards as they could.

When had Thor arrived, Heimdall greeted him instantly with healers in tow.

_All-seeing indeed._

Bringing Loki back to health had been no easy task. Much of the magic that had been used on him was foreign, even to the wise healers. They also found a natural resistance in Loki’s body, as though he was rejecting his own self-healing. There were inexplicably strong bindings on his own ability to cure himself, as though his very being was trying to push him into an early death. Eventually, though, through knowledge beyond Thor’s understanding and magic beyond even Loki’s capabilities, they broke the binds of resistance and persistence on his body, and with great time, Loki began to heal.

In truth, he had not realized how long it had been, until Stark had appeared at the front of the town asking him why the hell he had gone off radar for two months.

Another month after that altercation, Loki had finally awoken.

A glass shattering pulls Thor out of his rumination, and he snaps his head over to see a very drunk Drax howling in laughter at seemingly nothing.

“Hey, hey, you wanna reign in your plucky pals in for a night, Quill?” Tony sassed. “I don’t need beer stains on the new carpet.”

“Yeah, man, the fuck?” Peter asked Drax, who simply shrugged.

“You must learn to let lose, Quill! Dance as you have never before!” Drax hooted. Mantis, clueless, cheered beside him, while the rest of the Guardians stared on exasperatedly.

“Dude, I practically _taught _you dancing—”

“Yeah, ok, that’s enough for you; you’re cut off,” Gamora decided, getting up from her seat by Loki and Nebula to drag Drax away from the bar by the ear.

“Before you ask: yes, he’s always like that,” Nebula stage-whispered to Loki, who chuckled.

“Then he’s as brutish as…” Loki glanced up, only to freeze when he noticed Thor’s burning stare. He narrowed his eyes, as though trying to test and see what it was he should do. That few seconds of sizing each other up felt closer to a few centuries, but eventually, it was Loki who ceded first. “…Thor.”

“Is he now?” Strange asked, plopping down into Gamora’s previous seat.

“Nothing but burliness and brawn, I always said,” Loki continued amicably, thanking Stephen quietly as he handed him another drink.

“Do Asgardians usually talk of their king like that?” Nebula asked, a smirk playing on her face.

“Perhaps,” Loki said, cryptic as he drank and avoided Thor’s eyes.

The tension filling the room was palpable, and while many of the others tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the feeling was too repressive to ignore for long.

“So, brawny, huh?” Tony piped up, clearly not comfortable still with directly speaking to Loki. Thor wondered if he somehow felt a need to keep the conversation going. Awkward as that was, it felt strangely plausible, knowing Stark’s plethora of anxieties. “Doesn’t that account for like, 90% of us, though?”

“Feels like being a broad hunk’s just the name of the game in this business,” Clint chirped, albeit a little more meek than he probably intended. Of all of them, Clint had been the least comfortable with Loki’s return—which made sense, considering he'd been the one mind-controlled during all those years ago. “Saving the world requires a certain level of hotness, y’know?”

“Yeah?” Natasha spoke up, but she had a firm hand on Clint’s thigh in quiet comfort. “So how come you’re here?”

“Excuse you!”

“Hey, wear your dad bod with pride, Legolas,” Tony teased.

“Or you can bunk up with Quill and go to the gym,” Rocket drawled.

“Okay, c’mon dude, we’re not having this conversation again…”

Thor tuned out the conversation. The tension in the room had dissipated for his friends, but he still found himself staring down at Loki. It was clear that he was doing everything to avoid looking in Thor’s direction. While his demeanor was pleasant and amicable, a millennium and a half had taught Thor plenty of Loki’s masks. The tension in only one part of his shoulder. The slight tapping of his boot against the couch. His unnecessarily tight grip on his drink.

But even though he saw his brother’s discomfort and knew he was the cause, Thor couldn’t look away.

Having Loki here, in front of him yet somehow still so far away felt like the worst punishment he could be given. His brother had spoken little when he awoke, even less so to Thor himself. It had taken a week and a half before he was even willing to leave their settlement in Norway. While he had seemed to be his usual self—sly, wily, yet charming—when pleading his innocence to the Avengers, there was a certain resignation in his posture, an apathy to whatever happened to him.

Seeing that had made Thor feel nearly sick to his stomach. The feeling only worsened when he saw how purely _shocked_ Loki had been at the Avengers’ approval of him. He just knew that his little brother was expecting resistance, hatred, fury, and that thought only pained him. He hadn’t seen such resignation in Loki since a decade prior. Before Thor’s botched coronation. Before Loki learned of his true parentage. Before any of this madness had begun, back when the second prince would hunch his shoulders in defeat in front of the Allfather when he had done wrong.

But even then, Loki resigned in fear of disappointing his family and anger at himself for getting caught with whatever misdeed he had committed. There was always a guilt or apology in his stance back then.

When faced with the Avengers, though, Loki’s eyes were just emotionless.

After he’d been proclaimed, in Stark’s words, _‘innocent enough in this clusterfuck,_’ it had been fairly easy for Loki to be out of Thor's way, really. While as King, Thor was kept busy with Asgardian business, from foreign diplomacy to internal affairs, Loki had offered his services to magical study. The Soul Stone had been destroyed in returning all those who were killed by the snap, and Time Stone seemed to be on its last legs.

With that, great chaos had come about. There was a mass divide between sorcerers across the realm on whether or not they should be trying to destroy the rest of the Infinity Stones or not.

Loki, along with Strange and a few other magic-wielders across the galaxy, began studying the possibility of hiding the stones so thoroughly, they could never be found again. With the very fabric of their worlds etched into the stones, there was no telling what could possibly happen if they destroyed them. Still, they could not afford the abuse of their power like this again, not after Thanos.

Thor had protested against the project vehemently—or rather, Loki’s involvement in it. As a king and a warrior who fought Thanos for the stones, he could understand the necessity for such work. But he was as wise as he was selfish, and he wanted none of his people handling such a dangerous task, Loki least of all.

Loki, who, if the hints Thor had been given were correct, was tortured ruthlessly through the Mind Stone before being given access to the Chitauri. Loki, who had watched helplessly as the full might of the Power Stone burned into Thor’s face. Loki, who had desperately given up the Space Stone for Thor’s life, as though that would truth spare any of them from Thanos’s wrath.

He wanted Loki nowhere near the Infinity Stones, for the rest of time.

“_Loki will be staying advisor to me as he was on the Ark!_” Thor had boomed, ignoring the flinch from his council at the mention of the ship. None of them had the best memories from it, but for the few months they had on the ship before Thanos arrived, it was peaceful.

“_Your Majesty, we—_”

“_I do not care if he needs to be brought forcefully. He’s not to work the Stones, and that’s final!_”

“_But Your Majesty, how can we—_”

“_Little late for that, Your Majesty,_” Brunhilde had said as she sauntered into the room. “_Lackey’s already out in the new city of York with the Midgardian sorcerer. I suspect within a few days the Norns will ask for him as well. They always did have expansive libraries._”

“_I forbid i—_”

“_Leave him be, for now_,” Heimdall had advised, lowly. “_You grow restless, I know. But he must come on his own accord. He’s no plans of abandonment, but his spirit is weary and eyes dull._”

“_He won’t be leaving Midgard,_” Bruinhilde had added, if only just to calm his rage. “_He’s still needed here, to assist with our people, but between us and the stones, he’ll be occupied._”

She hadn’t quelled his anger much, but Thor let the matter go regardless. He steeled himself, saying that the second he had the tiniest inkling of doubt, or fear that studying the Stones may bring harm to Loki or their people, he would shut the whole thing down. Asgard or no, he knew his name was known and respected across the realms. He would use his pull, his power, if it meant keeping those he loved safe.

_When had he become so scheming?_

Now, though, Loki and Strange spoke in hushed tones, and it only infuriated Thor more.

“Nose-deep in your work even as we celebrate, brother?”

His voice was loud, loud enough to not only draw Loki and Strange’s attention, but many of their other friends as well.

Had he any sense of restraint at the moment, he would’ve berated himself. He knew he was dragging in their friends and companions into what should be personal business, but this was the first time he had seen Loki properly in _weeks_. He only had this night, before either of them were whisked away again for their duties.

And maybe, just maybe, giving his little brother the audience he always wanted and letting him display his theatrics would force him to open up, to talk to Thor at least a _little_. He’d let Loki degrade him, accuse him, say whatever to him in front of their friends so long as it meant they actually spoke for once.

Thor had so much to ask, Loki had so much to say, and they both had so much to mourn.

“One would think to relax on a night like this,” he continued, forcing himself to sound amicable even when he felt anything but.

“Important business usually doesn’t wait ‘til the night is over,” Loki responded with a half-hearted glance at him. That only drove Thor's anger further, and he willed himself not to clench his glass any tighter. Strange doesn’t say anything, his eyes flickering between the two brothers in pinched curiosity. “Shouldn’t our King know that by now?”

“Even the King can be at ease occasionally, can he not?”

_We’ve been fighting for so long, can’t we take a break?_

“Is it ease if something goes askew, or is it a mistake?”

_You spent so long trying to be king, are you truly okay with me ruling?_

“Such a cynical mindset, dear brother. Have we not won a great battle?”

_Why did you die that day? Why didn’t you die all the other times before?_

“Cynical… yes, perhaps. But after everything that’s happened is it not good to bear more than a little caution?”

_Do you hate me? Do I hate you?_

He stares Loki down, unyielding until he can practically feel the way his stare burns across the room. With a quiet “tsk,” Loki gives in and turns to face him, expression blank but eyes imploring.

“But you can rest assured, we weren’t discussing the stones.”

“Oh?”

Loki could very well be lying, but a tiny bit of relief goes through him at the words regardless. That relief is gone seconds later, when Strange speaks up finally.

“He was telling me of the great library gifted from… Vanaheim, was it?” Strange looked to Loki, who nodded. “Enchanted by your mother and in possession of some of the universe’s greatest knowledge. I can see why there’d be battles over it.”

“Battles?” Bruce asked, and Loki nodded.

“Few outsiders were allowed in the library. It’s heavily guarded and spelled for protection, for the information it holds is great as it is dangerous. While none in the Nine Realms were so daring as to challenge the Aesir openly, the thirst for knowledge is hardly quenched no matter the species. Oftentimes, groups of rogues would attempt to covertly gain access to the library, to steal its treasure. There were times, however, when even Kings and Emperors sought knowledge with their fists rather than their hearts.”

Loki catches his eyes, and Thor tries to act like the world didn’t just stop for a moment.

“I had just turned 300 the night before, no?” Thor asked quietly, knowing exactly which story Loki meant to tell.

He wondered if it was just his imagination when he saw Loki gulp just a little bit. He ignored the shouts and confused splutters at the mention of his age. Even his closer friends among the Midgardians still felt surprise at his age, sometimes.

“Yes,” Loki said warily, turning back to Bruce to continue his story. “He’d spent the night being indulged as he took his first sips of ale—”

“Not the first, brother,” he quipped playfully, but Loki just rolled his eyes.

“His first _legal_ sips of ale,” Loki amended, and it drew laughter from their friends. “Except, even at that age, sips were more like gulps for him. It was well past morning when he’d gotten out of bed to bathe, head raging and vision blurring with the aftereffects of such a… sordid night. But it was then that a page boy came bustling down to our wing of the Palace to tell us that we were both needed by the King.

“As you can probably guess, there was an attack at the gates of the library. Though within Asgard, the library was guarded heavily through enchantments that weaved it into multiple fabrics of reality. The gates were but the first step to entering the library, but to find them in the first place was no easy task. The attack had come from Alfheim, one of the Nine Realms and home to the Light Elves. It had not come from the Alfheim Queen herself, nor from any of her direct council, but from multiple noble houses with enough sway over her Highness to be concerning. As many did, they craved the knowledge that only Frigga’s library could give.

“The Allfather had seen the attack, and had elected to send his legacy instead himself. And so, just a day past childhood, Thor was to be sent off with a battalion to take down the threat. Alfheim does not breed fighters, but the attacks were worrying enough to send the son of Odin to quell the fear and squash the fight. It was insisted I join as well, despite my age, and so we were shipped off right to Vanaheim.”

_Insisted by **me**, _Thor thought. He dared not say it aloud, for fear of what Loki’s response would be.

“But Thor was clumsy, still rocked by his first night of age. A couple of well-timed spells and the Son of Odin was torn through like a silken drape. Sorcery, after all, was Alfheim’s speciality. It wasn’t long before he, and the entire battalion he had brought with him was fallen. He hadn’t Mjolnir with him then, too young to be deemed worthy of it by the Allfather. It was nothing but the strength his muscles allowed, the will his heart held, and the thunder his soul kept.

“Myself, I was too young to have seen true battle. So, I hid in the shadows, thwarting what I could and assisting as was possible. You must understand, even the shortest of battles in our worlds last ages compared to those here. An enemy presents itself here, on Mi—Earth, and your Avengers battle it in a day, in two. One great battle, to life or to death.

“But in our world, every battle is as a war. Even against the simplest of foes, there is an honor that comes in our fighting that stretches it out exuberantly. It was near the hundredth day of fighting when Thor's battalion had crumbled, his healing had slowed, and…”

There was a reason Loki had chosen this story.

“And?” Strange pushed.

“And Loki had been caught,” Thor finished.

“Caught?”

A silence hung over their heads, and Thor saw their friends lean in closer. Whispers of seiðr flickered in the air, and he found himself breathing in relief at the familiarity of it. This, this he knew. There had always been an entangling sensuality to Loki’s storytelling, which drew all around him in to listen to what tales he spun. This was no different.

“Caught,” Loki spoke, his voice just above a whisper. “Too young and too inexperienced in the ways of war, I was no great sorcerer, nor a god with my trickery. I was a clever child, but a child nonetheless. It wasn’t long until Alfheim’s forces discovered me and, as son to Odin, held me for ransom.

“Perhaps they were too afraid, as mere nobles and not royalty, to suffer the consequences of killing an Odinson. Perhaps they lacked the hearts to. But the message was clear either way—if they weren’t going to kill me outright, they never would, and there would be nothing else they could do. The Allfather would have me back with not a piece of gold given nor a drop of my blood spilled. It would only be too easy for him to recover us safely. In all of Asgard's eyes, the battle had already been won.”

Before the tricks and games, before the torture and madness—

“Well, _almost_ all.”

Before the rift that had torn them apart—

“Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief at the news of Alfheim’s last, desperate ransom attempt.”

They were simply Loki and Thor—

“Everyone else found that the library, our forces, and the First Prince would be safe.”

Triumphant on the battlefield—

“Everyone else knew that even held hostage, the Second Prince would be safe also.”

Two halves of one whole.

“Everyone, except Thor.”

His name was ice on Loki’s tongue, and he could feel the eyes on him from around the room.

“_Never_ had I seen such a display of violence. Of barbarism. Of savagery. Storms crackling down to kill dozens in one blow. A force of thousands was down in mere minutes. Nature crumbled the very sight of it all, as the grounds shook from the sheer power alone. It was something that had not been seen for millennia, something thought to be buried by the test of time ages ago. A power so chaotic and destructive, many feared to even whisper its name lest they invoked its wrath.”

Thor stood, his seat scraping harshly and loudly against the floor, but not a single person dared take their eyes off Loki.

“A power rebirthed within the Crown Prince himself to wreak its havoc on our worlds once again.”

He stomped over to cross the distance between them, never once breaking eye contact with his brother.

“_The Berseker_.”

“Enough!”

Thor was panting, though he couldn’t exactly tell why. With but a few of Loki’s lilting, rhythmical words, he felt like he was back there again, all those centuries ago on the plains of Vanaheim. Electricity crackling through his veins and singing the ends of his hair as nothing but pure fury coursed through his veins.

The hidden power within him, overpowering all his senses and reasoning in but an instant to replace every sane thought he could possibly have with nothing but bloodlust and rage. That day, he had killed so many, had destroyed so much, without even a single memory of it all. He remembered nothing but his own screams, both the second he found out Loki had been taken, and the second he burst into where Loki was being kept.

He tried to pretend he couldn’t remember the look of pure fear his brother gave him at that time.

“Stark,” Loki said, and the chill that went over the room wasn’t only metaphorical this time.

“Uh—” Tony spluttered.

“Find us somewhere isolated. An underground bunker, an abandoned field, whatever you may.”

“Loki, what are you—?” Steve started, but Loki simply cut him off with a sinister grin.

“Lest you wish all of this city to crumble into the ground.”

His—_their_—friends were up by now, weapons and bodies poised at the ready to fight when need be. Had Thor still been even somewhat in his right mind, he may have strained his voice calming his friends and convincing Loki to stop with his vague but threatening words. Now, though, he knew only anger, and stared as his brother sneered at him.

“Shall we then, Thor?” he asked, voice so saccharine and sweet it was clearly trouble.

“What? Cease your riddles!” Thor boomed, grinding his teeth when Loki rolled his eyes.

“A match, _dear brother_. A spar, Just like old times. Lest the King grow complacent upon his throne…?”

A challenge. Completely unveiled and barren, with no room for disagreeing—as though Thor would.

“Let it be so,” he accepted. He knew better than to play into Loki’s plots, but even the mention of a proper duel between them sparked a fire Thor thought he had banished completely when he was exiled to Earth all those years ago.

“This is a poor idea, sons of Asgard,” T’Challa warned warily.

While he held less grudges towards Loki, as he wasn’t there for the New York attack and he greatly respected Thor for his fight against Thanos, the Wakandan King’s discomfort around the Asgardians was clear. Earth’s experience with aliens had always been less than pleasant, after all. Still, he was King to his people, and in the back of his mind Thor felt his respect grow for the man as he stood tall and spoke.

“Violence is not the answer, and it most certainly will not be without consequences,” T'Challa continued. He glanced, ever-so-briefly, at Steve and Barnes. “I know this with my heart.”

“Think about the Accords,” Natasha added. Since Thanos, the Accords had yet to be reinstated, but the threat of a governmental conflict weighed heavily on everyone’s minds.

“Surely a simple sparring match doesn’t violate any of your people’s rules?” Thor asked, hoping he sounded amicable.

“Can’t you guys work this out some other way?” Steve asked, voice desperately tired and confused.

“This _is_ them working it out,” Bruce huffed. “Cultural thing, or whatever.”

Bruce, as the Hulk, had seen their fights often enough. Being trapped on the Ark together for so long, in close-quarters, meant tensions often racked up quickly. It wasn’t long before Loki, Thor, Brunhilde, and any other capable warrior was fashioning a training room and using it for stress relief.

With Thanos still around, Thor hadn’t even a chance to think of that, his whole being focused on killing the Mad Titan. Now, however, with the burden of ruling heavy on his shoulders and his relationship with Loki soured more than ever, the idea of a good spar had his fist clenching in anticipation.

“Two sons of the Asgard, not handling their issues with a full brawl? Practically unheard of,” Brunhilde added on, though her look had gone from stoic to amused at the very sound of the word ‘spar.’ “You’ll need an mediator.”

“Yes, very well,” Loki said hastily.

“What shall be the prize?” Her voice was solemn, just as a true mediator's would be back on Asgard, even though it was clear she was enjoying this.

“A boon to the victor,” Loki answered easily. “Willfully given.”

“I would have answers from you, Loki,” Thor boomed. It wasn’t courteous to reveal one’s demand until after the fight, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. 

“_A_ boon, you oaf, not multiple” Loki shot back, clenching his jaw when they both realized the unmistakable fondness creeping into his voice. Instead, he shot a glare at Tony. “_Stark_.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Tony said as his eyes scanned the display his console had brought up quickly. Without takin his eyes away from the screen, he continued, “Listen, Frosty, not saying that I don’t trust you or anything—though let’s go on record now and say I absolutely don’t— but I’m not sure how I feel about the two of you beating each other up at full power with the only one watching being an alcoholic war chick who always looks ready to kill any of us. No offense.”

“None taken,” Brunhilde shrugged lightly, raising her drink in a mock-toast.

“You can come spectate then,” Loki responded quickly, still staring down Thor.

“That’s not really the point—”

“Not on Earth if you’re so worried,” Loki said easily. “There’s a lovely moon orbiting a decimated planet out of this quadrant that Stormbreaker can easily take us to.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be fighting at all?” Rhodey said, but Loki just ignored him entirely.

“Let them have it.”

The voice was quiet but surprising enough to catch even Loki’s attention. It was the Sergeant Barnes—_Bucky_, Thor reminded himself. He had only joined the celebrations for Steve’s sake, and hadn’t said much the entire evening. He spent most of the time making quiet jabs at Sam Wilson and nursing his drinks. Now, though, he watched the two of them with an empty glass and speculating eyes.

“Buck, I don’t think—”

“Thor just risked his neck to save everyone; he’s not gonna put anyone in danger,” Bucky continued, setting his glass down without looking away from Loki and Thor. Not, not Loki and Thor, just Loki. “And he’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“You don’t trust him, I know.” _Him_, not them. Bucky’s eyes softened. “But trust me, I know the look of a man that's… that's recovering.”

The room fell pin-drop silent for only a second, but it was long enough.

Loki snarled, and at first Thor thought that he would conjure knives to kill Barnes himself. But he stayed put, staring down Bucky with a glare of a thousand suns.

“Do not presume to know _anything_, Sergeant,” he hissed, and while his tone was frightening, the silent admission in his words made Thor’s gut wrench. Recovering, he had said, and Thor unwittingly found himself thinking of the torture and trauma Barnes had gone through himself_. _Then, he thought of Loki._ The Chitauri. The Mad Titan. Death._ “Thanos I am not, but I still could end your life here with but the snap of my fingers.”

Nearly everyone in the room winced at that, Thor included, but Bucky didn’t back down.

“I got no doubt that you could.” He paused, a strange smile taking place on his features. Briefly, his eyes flickered over to Thor, before returning back to Loki. “But you won’t, and you know why.”

With that, Bucky was getting up, that smile still on his face as he shrugged Steve’s hand off his arm.

“I’m heading to bed,” he announced. “Let me know who won tomorrow, Stevie. ‘Night, Bird Brain.”

“Night, Snow White,” Sam said out of habit more than anything else, and Bucky was already out at the elevator.

“Well,” Tony started, visibly uncomfortable. “FRIDAY found a place.”

“Let me see it,” Loki demanded quietly, brushing off Brunhilde, who’d come to stand by him as restraint, to look over Stark’s shoulders. “Yes, that’ll do.”

And just like that, they out of the compound, and transported somewhere Thor knew not.

The whole area was pure metal, reinforced heavily and underground from what he could tell. Overhead and on the sides of the walls white lights shone and flickered to brighten the room. The air was stale and cold, but the space was vast and seemingly undisturbed. With a flick of Loki’s hands, wooden stands appeared, and their friends found themselves seated on them faster than they could realize. A barrier was formed around them, one stronger than most. Loki, despite everything, would keep them safe. He could be trusted to do that much.

But one glance at Loki broke through Thor’s temporary calm, as his hands itched once more for a fight. It took only a moment for Stormbreaker to fly into his hands, surprising even him until he realized Loki had brought it with him through his pocket dimension.

“Is this not to first blood, Lackey?” Brunhilde asked, and though her voice sounded cheerful and taunting as always, there was a seriousness in his eyes as she looked on at Stormbreaker.

Before, even when they were children, their fights had always been hands and non-enchanted weapons only. No magic, no Mjolnir. Nothing but a test of their strength and their dexterity—that was the way of Asgard training. There was only one reason to bring his weapon to his side now, and the thought made Thor feel both sick and excited.

This was no time for childish sparring, but for an honor match.

“’Til one of us concedes,” Thor answered in Loki’s stead, and a unreadable grin grew on his brother’s face.

“So eager to have your fight, are you, Thor?” he jeered, as though he’d been wishing any differently. “Very well then, brother! Tear me apart limb from limb with your precious axe, ‘til nothing more of my form remains.”

A glint in Loki's eyes unsettled Thor as much as it did intrigue him.

“I assure you, I shall return the favor.”

“Yield!” Thor commanded, hand tightening ever so slightly around Loki’s neck as he held him up.

_Thanos had held him here, as he…_

“Never,” Loki snarled, and Thor didn’t contain his growl as he threw his brother with far more force than he should across the room.

They’d been fighting like this for Odin knew how long, yet neither of them would admit defeat. Cuts and bruises and bumps littered their bodies, yet they fought through the blood and sweat dripping off their forms as though the wetness was nothing but the mists of Niflheim. Their spectators watched in both awe and horror, yet neither of them could even think to listen to their cries and yells.

Loki slammed against the wall, his force creating a crater-like dent in the metal walls behind him. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees in a groan, but he immediately snapped his head up. Even battered as they were, neither would give in.

Never, until the end.

Thor was already lunging, Stormbreaker left behind in favor of his bare hands. But his fists banged only into the ground as Loki disappeared in a shadowy whisper. Frantically, he looked around, trying to follow the signs to see where his brother was—the familiar flickers of green, the cold wash of magic, the startling acuity of his senses. He looked like a mad man, eyes darting around everywhere faster than lightning.

And then just like that, his feet were being kicked underneath him and he was falling.

He dropped with an inelegant thud to the ground, and Loki pinned him down with his clones. Two held each of his arms down, while the real Loki sat on his chest and held a dagger to his neck.

“Do you yield?” Loki snarled down at him, to which Thor simply bared his teeth. Frowning, Loki conjured another dagger to dig it deep down into his shoulder, reveling in the throaty yell it brought. “I have hundreds more, dear brother. Do? You? Yield?”

Each word was emphasized with another dagger into his flesh, but the one at his neck never moves. A constant threat, or hesitation? Thor wasn’t sure, and he didn’t particularly care.

“Never,” he growled.

Just as another dagger raised to come down onto him, he shut his eyes and channeled the thunder in his veins. His control was still laughable, but he’d no chance of calling Stormbreaker with his hands pinned as they were.

“Let’s hope,” he croaked as his eyes fluttered open, “that your barrier shall hold.”

That was all the warning he gave before a great flash of lightning filled the room, crackling down and hitting Loki directly in the back. He gave a great scream from the hit, his consciousness waning just long enough for the clones to disappear. That was all the opening Thor needed.

Shoving Loki off him, he forced himself to jump to a standing position. He was unsurprised when he saw that, even after that hit, Loki was still kneeling at the ready, prepared for the next attack. The air smelled of ozone, heat rumbling around their heads.

“There is not a barrier of mine you can break, Thunderer,” Loki snapped.

Both of them knew it was not simply the magical barrier that Loki was talking about. The emotional barrier between the two of them, keeping them apart. The mental barrier as Loki lied and hid from him so many secrets. He truly believed Thor would never be able to break his walls down, that he could remain secure and trapped in his own prison of mind forever.

He grinned as he saw the flicker of fury in Thor’s eyes, expecting a mad rage to come next.

_No._ If Thor was to get his answers, he needed not rage, but trickery.

Still, he screamed nonetheless, a passionate battle cry ripping through his throat in a great show of fury as he hailed Stormbreaker in his arm. He rose it above his head, letting lightning snap from it dangerously and wildly. Loki tensed, preparing for what was to come. With a deafening roar, he moved his arm to bring Stormbreaker down.

As he expected, the second he moved his arm, Loki was rolling out of the way speedily, his movement bolstered by magic to make it all too easy to avoid the coming swing.

That is, if Thor had been planning on swinging at him at all.

Grinning, he let Stormbreaker slip from his fingers with ease, using the momentum of his arm swinging to push his body off to the side instead. As the axe fell from his hands, he launched himself at Loki. He’d grabbed hold of his brother’s ankle before Stormbreaker even hit the ground.

Loki squawked in indignation as he realized what Thor had done. He floundered as he fought to kick Thor off him, and he only narrowly missed when he threw a dagger back down at him. But in the wake of their exhaustion from the long fight, Thor knew it was a but a battle of strengths now—his control of his lightning, Stormbreaker or no, was failing, and Loki’s magic could do little with his mind so scattered.

Ignoring the thunderous crash his axe gave as it fell to the ground, he focused on restraining Loki. It had taken extra time, but in one of Loki’s fits to escape, he had entrapped both his arms behind his back. The room felt quiet by the time he had brought himself up to straddle Loki’s hips, pushing him down completely into the ground.

“Give up, Loki,” he boomed.

Loki, forced to lay with his head on its side and his cheek squashed into the ground, looked up at him with a mask of indifference. But Thor could read that look better than any book in Frigga’s library. It was Loki’s immediate response to danger, to reel his emotions in and give no enemy the benefit of seeing him whimper. But beneath that, was exhaustion, rage, even defeat.

“Never,” he spat.

Thor let the thunder take over him once more, feeling it manifest in the air as Loki stiffened in his hands. Even as a God of Lies, he couldn’t tell if Thor was bluffing or not, and to be completely honest, Thor wasn’t so sure either.

“Yield!” he commanded once more, feeling the familiar pricks of white filling his vision.

Just as his vision started to fade into the light, he saw it.

It was just for a bare second, but he saw it. The flicker of Loki’s eyes away from him, looking upwards at what was ahead of them. Using all the will power he could possibly muster, he forced his head up to follow the glance. Through his vision so spotted, his mind so chaotic, he couldn’t form faces or recognize expressions, but he realized one thing.

The barrier was breaking.

To their spectators, it wasn’t detectable in the slightest. They wouldn’t be able to tell until it was too late. Even with the Earth sorcerer Strange, there was nothing they could do to see the barrier weakening without the pulling coil of seiðr. Even Thor himself shouldn’t have been able to have noticed anything. Wide-eyed, he stared down at Loki as though testing him with his eyes alone.

Yet his vision slowly continued to clear, and with it, his gaze found itself dragged down to where he had restrained Loki’s hands. A soft green glow emanated from both his and Loki’s hands, rising slowly to encircle both their bodies.

“I yield.”

The words were quiet, barely audible, but it was enough to snap Thor’s head up at Loki. He met Loki’s eyes with disbelief, amazement, adoration, confusion. He couldn’t even begin to pin down all the emotions he knew were running on his face right now.

_He could have let it fall._

Loki’s gaze was unreadable, but the slight trembling of his body was not.

_He could have let the barrier fall, and won._

“I yield,” he said once more, louder when no response came from their spectators.

“Oh! Uh,” Brunhilde stumbled over her words, and the barrier dropped for her to walk to them. Thor doubted their Midgardian and other alien friends cared much for Asgardian duel traditions, but Brunhilde was strangely fixated with them. “The King reigns victorious!”

They were not among their people, so it was no surprise that no bellowing applause met her words.

“As agreed, the Prince must grant one boon of the King, willfully given and thoroughly fulfilled.”

He heaved a deep sigh, getting up just enough to roll Loki onto his back to face him. They stared each other down, as though there was any doubt of what Thor was going to say.

“And grant it, I shall,” Loki agreed ceremoniously, panting for breath as he did.

That was supposed to be it. The boon could be granted at any time, and there was no need to do it now. He could have simply waited, waited until Loki had brought everyone back to the Avengers compound, until they had returned to their own village, until they were alone.

But for as much as Thor was supposed to be a patient, level-headed king, sometimes he just had to be an impatient oaf of an older brother.

“You shall answer my questions truthfully and with no deceit. You shall give no half-answers or lies of omission. You will answer in full.”

Loki tensed. His eyes traversed Thor’s face, as though waiting something out. What, he knew not.

“Three questions,” he agreed finally. “And not here.”

“I shall ask them where I please!” Thor bellowed before he could help it. He barely managed to reel himself back in before continuing. It would do no good, for his friends to see him like this: so desperate, so vicious, but so mournful. “…Three questions it is.”

That mask of indifference returned to Loki’s face, and something—a groan, a sob, a laugh—tore out of Thor’s throat.

“_Please_, brother.”

The bridge between them had been broken and mended so much. Their hearts had been slashed and bandaged over and over again. Betrayal had rocked their boat so many times around. But they were still here—_Loki _was still here. He hadn’t left, even after all that happened, and he’d assured Thor over and over again that he wouldn’t be leaving.

“Very well.”

So _why_ did he constantly feel like he was a second from losing Loki for good?

“Why did you hide?”

Loki’s response is quick, like second nature, and short, but it tears into Thor’s heart all the same.

“Because I didn’t want to live.”

And with that, a flush of air came all around them. Thor instinctively flinched back and shut his eyes, and when he opened them, he was back at the compound. No, not just him—all of them had made it back to the compound, in the main lounge area where they had enjoyed their partying. His friends around him groaned a little bit—no doubt the after effects of the teleportation—but Thor pushed past the expected nausea to look around. His heart sank.

Loki had disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> is there even a market for these kinda fics anymore? idk how alive or dead the fandom is rn, but oh well, guess ill throw this in here like a year and a half late lmao


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